


Violet velvet

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Series: Staniel & Jimothy [3]
Category: GTA RP, markiplier - Fandom, shrimp_
Genre: Angst, Don’t copy to another site, Freindship, Gen, Injury, Mention of abuse, Mention of oxy, Mentions of Prostitution, Panic Attack, Platonic FriendlyPack, Trauma, lowkey afraid to post this, no beta we die like men, psychology is just fascinating I guess???, this is not a happy one guys, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 15:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18741910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: It’s night and a shaken up Jimmy knocks on his best friend’s door for a little help.Warnings in the author’s note; proceed with caution.





	Violet velvet

**Author's Note:**

> So, this little idea hasn’t left my head once in the last four days so I guess I may as well write it. I’m gonna he straight with you - this is probably one of the darker things I’ve written, and definitely toes a line I don’t want to cross. **If you feel uncomfortable or triggered while reading, please feel free to stop and leave. I will not be offended. Take care of yourself, please.**
> 
>  
> 
> _Trigger warnings are as follows: reference to Stan’s Oxy addiction, mention of prostitution, mentions of non-consensual touching (non-specified), and mentions of physical abuse. Also a panic attack._

     For a second, he hesitates.

     His hand is poised to knock, and he’s shaking; he’s shaking so bad. But he doesn’t know where to go - he only knows what he  _can’t_ do.

     _Can’t go to the police, can’t go to the hospital, can’t tell can’ttell can’tte ll-_

     His chest hurts, the ache getting worse. Steeling himself, he strengthens his resolve and knocks. _One two three_. Standard. Unhurried.

    The door swings open a moment later, and Jimmy is met with a pajama-clad Stan. It’s a soft blue and white striped set, even with one of those old fashioned night caps.

    “Jimmy?” Stan rubs at his eye sleepily. “What are you doing here? It’s really la-“

    He catches sight of the dark, blooming violet around Jimmy’s neck and chest (Jimmy tried not to shield himself), the soft light of his apartment making it look even  darker. He instantly steps aside and ushers him in.

    “Oh my god oh my god - should I, should, should I call an ambulance? Or or, do you need water? A Shamwow? Oxy?”

    “No- no ambulance. I’m - it’s fine Stan. Just. . .some water would be nice.” Jimmy bites his tongue, trying to bite back the fear in his voice. 

    Stan musters the most incredulous look yet to date. Composing himself, he hurried to his closet, gesturing to the bed, “Well at least sit; sit. I’ll, I’ll go run some cloths under warm water, okay?”

    Jimmy settles down with a wince. “. . okay.”

    The water is running in the other room and Jimmy just. . .takes a moment. The TV has been turned on but the volume is at zero; it’s bluish light cascades with the yellow of the bathroom. A bottle of Oxy lies on the bedside table (why is it only a quarter-full? Please don’t-), and there’s absolutely just cases of water stacked against the wall.

    It’s . . .pretty much what he expected of Stan’s apartment.

    Jimmy fidgets, tries to just _focus_ on here and now, but the memories just keep pulling back at him-

    “Here you go; they shouldn’t be too hot.”

    -and there’s Stan, voice low and soft, holding out a wrung our rag for him, and Jimmy takes it with a small ‘thanks’. It’s warm, and though he’s sore, it doesn’t necessarily hurt to press it against his bruised sternum.

    Stan sits down, further up near his pillows.

    “So, did you get in a fight or. . .”

    And Jimmy, he wants to clamp his mouth shut and just _forget_ it; forget the last two hours of-

    But Stan is so honest in his concern, and Jimmy is so _tired_ , so tired of being Velvet Aurora and then Jimmy the next day, as though nothing had happened in darkened alleys or strangers’ bedrooms-

    “No. It was . . .” He sucks in a wet, ragged breath; denies that it’s a sob, “just a bad client, that’s all.”

    He sees the gears turning; the final light flickering when Stan understands what he means. Then, there’s sadness in that understanding. Sympathy.

    There’s too much kindness and goodness in this man.

    This city really _will_ destroy whatever Stan is made of.

    (That’s why Jimmy has to help him; even if it means breaking and reshaping bits of that person.)

    Jimmy is embarrassed suddenly; here he is, the badass friend so shaken up over - over someone being a little rough. He ends up in the hospital daily, sometimes twice a day!

    But-

    He just. . .he feels _dirty_ and _worthless_ and, and-

    He coughs suddenly, and there’s some sort of gurgle. Stan bolts up right and is besides him immediately, hands hovering worriedly. “Friendly? J? I think, I think maybe we should go to the hospital. . .”

   “No!” And he _hates_ how his pitch rises with panic. “No! We can’t, they can’t know- I can’t, I can’t. . .no reports! Or. . .”

    Jimmy’s vision is spotting and there’s darkness closing in, just like _fists closing in and there’s slurs while she’s knocking him down, he can’t move, he’s afraid, there’s a crack and is that a rib? and this isn’t what he agreed to, he doesn’t want this, but he has no choice no say no no nonono-_

   “J! Jimmy! C’mon! Just, just, in for four, c’mon, then out for six, yeah? One more time. . .”

    Stan coaxes him like this a few more times until the darkness clears and he can breathe easy again. Stan’s rubbing small circles into his back and he almost pushes him away - _please don’t I’m not worth it don’t touch me_  - but instead he just steadies himself. Reminds himself that it’s a gentle touch. A welcome one.

    “Are you. . .are you going to be okay?” Ah, there it is; crybaby Stan voice. Yep, sure enough, when he glances there’s big blues shining with tears.

   Jimmy just swallows back his own tears and frustration. “Y-Yeah. Jus’ . . .just a rough client.”

    Rough was an understatement, he decided. He didn’t tend to have as many female clients, and usually they’re not- this is probably the worst one he’s ever had, male or female.

    He doesn’t want to see her again, he decides. Ever.

    Screw whatever the eff Alabaster says.

    Sensing Jimmy tighten, Stan removes his hand, sighing oh-so-quietly. “Okay. Just. . .you can take a shower, if you want. I have some extra clothes. Stay as long as you want, okay?”

    And there’s those blue eyes full of concern and care. Something like fatherly love. (How can his son not respect him?)

    Jimmy’s trembling slows a tad.

  _How do you know you can trust me?_

    “Thanks,” he manages.

     “Of course; anything for my best friend!”

_I know I can trust you._


End file.
